Sixteen
by TMBlue
Summary: COMPLETE! Ron Weasley turns sixteen.


_**A/N:** Annnnd here's my second fic for Ron's birthday this year. Hope you enjoy! x_

 _So sorry I haven't been replying to reviews lately (again)! It's been hard to get computer time, and I hate replying from my phone! I'm out of town til next week, so I hope everyone has a great week, and I'll try to get on top of these reviews (and a couple of WIP updates) next week! xx_

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She'd been thinking about it for weeks, but that didn't make it any easier to execute. She felt like the stakes had been raised a bit at Christmas. No one had ever bought her perfume before… How was she meant to follow that? Yes, she expected she was overthinking it a bit, and he'd acted so nonchalant about it, really. But no one could be fooled that it was normal behaviour for Ron to give her something so- ...well. She'd expressed her irritation toward him the year before about not realising she was a girl… Couldn't very well bring that up again, now.

Occasionally, she _really_ over thought it. Trouble with having two boys for best friends. But what if her firmly acquired status as a girl would push her even more to the edges of their personal conversations? She wrinkled her nose, because she rather liked being left out of incessant chatter regarding Quidditch, maybe a bit glad she didn't have to suffer quite the level of crude jokes they seemed prepared to make at every turn these days. But she really didn't want to be cut out of their lives any more than that.

The flip side, that she would never admit aloud, was that she'd gladly accept her fate if it meant Ron was actually… _aware_ of her. She could have rolled her eyes at the way her own thoughts censored themselves, because of course he was _aware_ of his best female friend, but she wanted him to be… significantly more than that, words she was (apparently) not even allowing herself to freely think about.

Harry had darted from dinner to Occlumency, which had left them alone for the night. Hermione only hoped Ron wouldn't think she'd forgotten his birthday before she'd had a chance to corner him. A fleeting thought rushed by that what if he had other plans for his night? Though he'd said nothing as he'd headed up to the Common Room, would he really want to spend his sixteenth birthday alone, with her?

Her cheeks flushed lightly as she felt the box she was carrying, inside her bag, heading up flights of stairs toward Gryffindor. There were several phases to her plan, and she had to simply act on them now. It was too late to go back…

The Portrait Hole swung open to reveal scattered students studying at the round tables by the windows. Ron was hunched over on the sofa, no doubt finishing the essay she'd nagged him about the previous day. It was due in the morning, and a large part of her was fiercely in opposition to willfully stopping him now, but it _was_ his birthday, for Merlin's sake.

She approached the sofa and sniffed loudly.

"Hey." He glanced up at her fleetingly. "I'm working on it."

She scoffed at him, even though he had a fair point. On an ordinary day, she'd be checking on his work to be sure.

"That's not what I wanted to say."

"Hm?" He glanced up again. "Go on then."

"Have you got any plans for your night?"

This time, he held her gaze without looking away again, mildly baffled.

"Should I?"

"It's your birthday."

"Right. Harry's got Occlumency, and, anyway, we ate chocolate frogs for breakfast."

"You did?" She immediately regretted her scandalised tone of voice.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Didn't think you'd mind missing that."

"Well… I thought maybe we could do something together. You know... um, to celebrate."

"Oh." She rather hoped she hadn't imagined the light flush that had crept up his neck. "Like what?"

"I have a surprise, but… if you'd rather not…"

He glanced down at his unfinished homework, then back up at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

"You planned something?"

"Come on, then," she encouraged shakily, ignoring his question, embarrassment threatening to take over. "If you want to see what it is, get your cloak, and let's get going."

"Yeah, alright," she heard him say as she turned around and began to lead the way back out through the Portrait Hole.

He fell into step next to her, and she could feel him suspiciously glancing at her every few seconds. Finally, they reached the ground floor, and she turned to head outside into the cool night air.

"Hermione, what-"

"We have permission until ten," she interrupted, cryptically, "but I've got Harry's cloak, if we want to stay out later…"

"Does he know you've got it?"

She stamped down a snappy reply to his question, only rising in the first place because of her own guilt for taking the cloak from Harry's trunk without asking.

"No," she admitted instead, wincing, "but I'm sure he'd be alright with it if he knew what we were doing."

"What _are_ we doing?"

She completely ignored him and continued walking purposefully across the grounds, only slowing down when they silently reached the Quidditch pitch.

"Am I supposed to start guessing?" he asked, as she led him through the gates and out onto the field. She glanced up, to her left, gaze surreptitiously landing on his broom and the second school one she'd taken out earlier, for herself.

She stopped and turned to face him, her nerves and excitement mingling with uncertainty as she stared up at his curious expression.

"I know you've been having… a hard time with Quidditch and everything-" His eyes narrowed just a bit, and she was conscious of the fact that she was rambling. "-but you love it out here, and I thought… maybe we could just fly around a bit for fun, because I know you don't get to do that while you're working so hard to prepare for matches, and-"

"Hang on. You're going to fly with me?" he asked incredulously, brows raised again.

She shrugged.

"You don't even like being on a broom," he unnecessarily reminded her.

"Well," she sniffed, "that's why it's a birthday present. I know you'd rather be out here with Harry, but with his Quidditch ban and Occlumency tonight-"

"Seriously?"

"Which part?" she blinked.

"I'll get my broom," he said with a smile, ignoring her question.

"I've already got it for you," and she gestured toward the first row of stands. He looked up and spotted the two brooms waiting for them.

"Brilliant," he grinned, gaze darting back to her with something a bit new… like he couldn't quite believe her plans and was waiting for a second shoe to drop. But then he walked across to reach up and pull both brooms down, reminding her how tall he had gotten, even more so just since the previous summer. She felt her cheeks lightly flush but hoped the darkness would hide it from him. Unfortunately, she became quickly distracted by the reality of what she'd signed up for.

Her stomach lurched with nerves at her impending fate, high up in the air on a broomstick.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked as he handed the school broom to her. Apparently he could read the queasy way she was feeling in her expression, but she nodded, carefully slipping her bag off her shoulder, to the ground.

"Just don't make me go too fast… or too high… or…" She cut herself off and swallowed, gripping her broom handle tightly.

"No problem," he shrugged, mounting his own broom and gently casting off.

She shakily followed him, only a metre or so off the ground at first.

"How the hell did you get permission for us to be out here, anyway?"

"I may have told Angelina you were giving me a flying lesson. She put us on the practice schedule."

"Ha!" He slowed down a bit so they were flying side by side. "That's brilliant."

She was immediately mesmerised by the way he was grinning, the way a gentle breeze brushed through his hair…

"Thanks for this, by the way," he said in a different, much softer sort of voice, before he cleared his throat.

She shrugged as she smiled back at him, trying to act far more nonchalant than she felt about the fact that he was clearly enjoying what she had planned. In fact, she hadn't seen him actually happy on a broom in months.

They continued to fly slowly around the outside edge of the pitch, until Ron began to climb higher, eventually shooting up above her and circling briefly before zooming down again. She shivered and clutched her own broom tighter, fighting her fear, because she didn't want him to feel hindered by her hesitation. So, clenching her teeth a bit, she tilted forward, gaining some momentum, which he casually matched, sweeping behind her and catching up again on her opposite side.

"Not so bad, yeah?" he asked with a lopsided smile, and she felt almost too focused on staring straight ahead without blinking to glance at him, but she made the effort, anyway.

"I suppose not," she replied in as steady of a voice as she could muster.

He zipped past her, crossed in front of her, flew bloody _backward_ for a moment, then whipped around to her left side again.

"Loosen up a bit," he suggested.

"Easy for you to say," she muttered back.

He flew progressively closer until his leg was so near to hers that she thought she could actually feel his body heat…

"Grab my arm."

She glanced sceptically sideways at him.

"C'mon, you're barely off the ground. Just gonna go a bit faster."

"I swear, if I fall, I'll hex you, birthday or not…"

He laughed and held out his right arm, which she quickly took, knowing she'd second guess her choice if she waited too long. She had to give him some credit… his increase in speed was so gradual that it took her a few moments to notice how fast they were going. But, eventually, the stands were blurring by on her left, and she clutched his arm tighter.

"Okay?" he asked, and her heart seemed to do a funny little flutter.

"Mm hm," she only half lied, because he was enjoying this, which meant she was, too… And they were alone, out there, and just _maybe_ she'd managed to match his gift from Christmas… And they hadn't even reached the second part, yet…

She shouldn't have done, but it was too late, and she had glanced down before telling herself not to do it. They'd moved a good bit higher off the ground, and she hadn't noticed. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing through her mouth, trying to drown in better feelings - the cool air brushing through her hair and his strong, warm arm linked with hers.

"Ron?" she asked in a small voice, cracking open her eyes again.

"Hm?"

"There's something else, if you want to fly us back down…" It was a good excuse to put her feet back on the ground for a break, and he was confused enough by her intriguing statement not to tease her.

"Something else?"

"In my bag."

She glanced sideways, and he raised a brow at her, but they were closer together than she'd realised, and she was basically leaning on his shoulder. For a moment, she forgot they were up in the air, halfway lost in the way the moonlight was reflecting in his blue eyes…

"Um… right," he said after a moment, breaking their gaze and lowering them slowly back to the ground.

The moment her feet touched down, she let go of her broom and made her way to her bag, carefully picking it up. He walked slowly up to face her with a quizzical expression, hands in his pockets.

"Come sit down," she instructed.

He followed her to a long bench by the edge of the field, and they sat side by side.

"You've probably had enough chocolate for one day-"

"No such thing."

"-but," she continued, trying to hold back her wavering smile, "here."

She handed him the box she'd stowed away after dinner, heart beating a bit faster than usual, and he took it, opened the lid…

"Woah! Where'd you get this?"

He lifted the chocolate cake on a small round plate out of the box, and her hands fidgeted atop her lap.

"I went down to the kitchens and asked the house-elves."

"But…" He didn't need to finish his sentence. She knew very well why he found this admission hard to believe.

"I paid them," she clarified, almost rolling her eyes as he laughed.

"Of course you did."

His attention returned to the decadent cake he was holding. For just a moment, she could see it, the way he was puzzling over this turn of events, but she resolutely reminded herself that there was nothing unusual about this. She'd been giving him Christmas and birthday gifts for several years. Alright, so she'd graduated from homework planners to experiences she thought he might actually _really_ enjoy, but that simply meant she knew _her best friend_ a bit better now… or had simply grown out of the selfish impulses to improve his and Harry's attitudes.

But when Ron looked back up at her, she could swear that he was… _aware of her_.

"There's a fork in the box as well," she said in an oddly hoarse voice.

"Cheers," he replied in a raspy tone to nearly match hers.

He leaned back on the bench, set the cake plate on his lap, and retrieved the fork.

"Don't you want some?" he asked casually.

"Thought you might want to save some for Harry," she shrugged.

"Dunno if it'll last that long," he grinned, cutting his fork through the cake and taking a gigantic bite. His eyes nearly fluttered shut, and she pressed her lips together. "Damn, that's good. You really need to try this."

He took another blissful bite, then offered her his fork. She stared at it for too long before taking it from him.

"Sorry, is that weird?" he asked awkwardly, licking his bottom lip. "Sometimes I forget _you_ don't share everything with a thousand siblings…"

"No, it's not," she was quick to assure him, though she really couldn't explain why her stomach was doing backflips as she took a bite of his cake. It really was quite good, even to someone who had never preferred sweets, and she sighed as she handed the fork back again, noting with a small shiver that he seemed to be avoiding looking directly at her now, and were his ears a bit pinker than usual?

"Wanna fly a bit more?" he asked around another mouthful of cake.

"Sure," she heard herself say, and he set the cake down, stood… and tugged her hand.

Her heart lodged halfway up her throat as he took _three whole steps_ with her hand in his.

"Take my Cleansweep," he suggested, without looking at her. "It's a lot steadier than the rubbish school broom you got out."

"If it's rubbish, you shouldn't have to fly it."

"Nah. This isn't a match or anything. Reckon it's not a terrible idea anyway to fly on a bad broom once in a while. Makes you feel better about what you've got."

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned lopsidedly at her before handing her his broom and swinging his leg over the school one. He took off more quickly this time, and she was frozen, watching him, for a bit too long.

"Alright?" he called down, from startlingly high above her.

"Fine!"

She climbed on _his broom_ (overthinking it), and set off, much slower than he had gone, but her confidence was building slightly, and he had been right that his Cleansweep was noticeably steadier. He arched in a wide semicircle, arriving next to her again, and she found that her hands were no longer shaking as badly and the pounding of her heart was no longer primarily due to her height off the ground.

She lost track of the time, as they flew together, stars overhead and the flickering lanterns of the castle off in the distance. And, in a way, she couldn't tell which she preferred, soaring with his arm in hers or the way he was happily darting past her, wind whipping her hair, lightheaded.

By the time they landed again, it was well past ten, and they had to use the cloak. She was reminded, once more, of how much he had grown over the last few months as he had to hunch over a good bit to fit beneath it with her.

The walk back to the castle _required_ her to touch him quite a bit to remain hidden, but he filled the silence with whispered words, jokingly asking if she had learned a lot during her 'flying lesson.' She laughed too loudly as they crossed through the Entrance Hall, and she felt his hand lightly covering her mouth before either of them realised what he was doing. He rather quickly dropped his hand again, but he was smiling as they climbed the stairs, so she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and leaned a bit closer.

When at last they reached the Portrait Hole, he tugged off the cloak (he'd agreed to quietly replace it in Harry's trunk), and Hermione gave the password, shushing the Fat Lady as she tried pry into what they'd been doing out so late. They found the Common Room deserted, save Ron's homework still scattered across the table in front of the sofa. He stretched and made his way toward it, and she chewed her lip in deep contemplation, knowing in her heart what she was going to do but having a bit of a wrestle with it first.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?" He slumped down on the sofa, toeing off his trainers.

"I'll finish your essay, if you want."

He blinked up at her, bewildered.

"It's my fault you didn't have a chance to get it done sooner," she explained, before he could speak, temperature rising somewhat as he stared up at her.

"You've been trying to get me to do it for days…" he reminded her weakly, but she was already sitting on the sofa beside him.

"At least let me help, so you won't be up all night."

"Oh, I'm not turning you down…"

"Let's see it, then," she requested, and the corner of his mouth twitched up.

Was it just her imagination, or did he lean a bit closer than necessary as she marked down notes for him to copy? Was it possible that, when his fingertips brushed her leg, it hadn't been an accident? And had she actually caught his gaze lingering on her profile or was she reading into every little thing?

No. No, she mustn't be, she decided, when he nervously rubbed the back of his neck after her sock-covered foot bumped against his.

They managed to finish a rather high quality essay, if she said so herself, in less than an hour, and he yawned and stretched, stuffing his feet into his trainers and clearing away their work.

"Cheers," he said, in a far too endearingly sleepy voice, as he stood. "Dunno what I'd do without you."

"That's alright, but you really should think about these things in advance, you know…" She hated her own nagging words the moment they were out of her mouth, but, to her surprise, he just grinned and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I prob'ly should."

They silently headed toward the stairs to their dormitories, but she had the most powerful urge to stop him before he left her sight, as if something remained unsaid, though she certainly hadn't a clue what _should_ be said. To her mingling relief and heart-pounding anticipation, he was the one who turned back to face her, at the last second.

He stared at her for a moment before he spoke, and _there_ , she could see it again, that _something_ that she wanted to believe was more.

"Thanks, y'know… again," he said awkwardly. "That was a great birthday." The corner of his mouth twitched nervously toward a smile, and she quickly returned it.

"Good," she managed to say back.

And, with a nod and a muttered "g'night," he finally turned away completely, disappearing up the stairs.


End file.
